


on the edge of paradise

by lily_winterwood



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Blindfolds, Cockwarming, Collars, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub, Domdrop, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Facials, Feathers & Featherplay, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gags, Glory Hole, Healthy Relationships, Ice Play, Impact Play, Japanese Rope Bondage, Light Bondage, M/M, Massage, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Play Party, Porn Video, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex, Sensation Play, Service Submission, Service Top, Sex Party, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Subdrop, Subspace, Switching, Topdrop, shutting down chads on fetlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 19,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_winterwood/pseuds/lily_winterwood
Summary: “I saw a spark in you, Yuuri,” Viktor admits. “And everything I’ve gotten from our conversation suggests you have the makings of an excellent Dominant. I’d love to see what you can do.”“I’ve never —” Yuuri cuts off, hiding his flaming cheeks behind his hands.“But you’ve wanted to, haven’t you?”Yuuri nods. Viktor leans in, lips ghosting along the shell of Yuuri’s ear.“Let me teach you,” he suggests, and Yuuri trembles in a way that tells Viktor his decision before he even hears it.In which Viktor trains Yuuri as his Dom, and ends up with so much more. (Play Party AU,originally posted on Tumblr)





	1. you're the light, you're the night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, by popular demand, here is the [Play Party BDSM AU](http://omgkatsudonplease.tumblr.com/tagged/play+party+au/chrono/), now on AO3! Each piece is a ficlet done to an askbox prompt on Tumblr, a series of vignettes loosely connected together. I'll be posting in the chapter summary what the prompt in question was, for extra context. 
> 
> Tumblr will continue to be the main posting place for these "sinstallments", but now I will be crossposting over to AO3 a couple days afterwards. 
> 
> Hope this isn't too confusing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: yep yep you should definitely write that play party fic yep yep_

The black-haired young man currently being tied up in the most fantastic of suspension knots is _stunning_. Viktor had only been passing through the party tonight, not particularly interested in most of the scenes being performed. People had come up to him — he had a reputation, after all — asking if he wanted to play, but he had turned all of them down.

He’d really only come as a favour to his friend, Christophe, who was looking for a new slave after the last one had moved out of town and decided that making things long-distance wasn’t right for them. Chris had taken it hard, of course, but he’d respected their decision as well. It’d just taken him a couple bottles of wine and a marathon of _Friends_ on Viktor’s couch to recover.

Viktor had never seen much of a point in lifestyle, though. It just seemed exhausting to keep protocol for such extended periods of time. He could never act for that long.

And _yet_ —

Viktor can’t tear his gaze away from the young man in the knots. His scene partner, a darker-skinned young man in a black corset and winged eyeliner so sharp it could probably stab someone, is lightly dragging the tips of his fingernails across his skin, whispering something into his ear. The man’s cock has also been tied, and he gives the most delectable of moans as his partner’s fingers rub against it. The way he flushes against the bright red ropes, the way his body arches into the touch of his partner — it’s perfect. It’s the very image of submission.

Viktor could _easily_ see himself as this man’s Dominant, slipping into the role every morning. Caring for him, guiding him through new experiences, undoing him with the satisfaction that only he can do such things to this man — it’s all there, in the constrained sway of the man’s hips and the way his eyes flash as they flicker through the audience, coming to rest on Viktor.

And _yet_ —

There’s something steely in the glint of this man’s brown eyes as his partner runs a thumb across his lips, something hard and determined in his gaze as his partner begins to work him out of the ropes, intent on tying him into a new position. Viktor feels his own trousers tightening in response, as he watches the scene partner begin to tie him up in a new configuration, his wrists and ankles pressed together. The crowd murmurs appreciatively at the man’s apparent flexibility, but Viktor only watches, spellbound, as the man looks towards him and _winks_.

After the performance, Viktor goes to find himself some water. He finds the man at the refreshments, his scene partner nowhere to be found. The man is dressed again, in a simple collared shirt and black trousers, unassuming and casual compared to other attendees in their party wear.

“I saw your performance,” Viktor tells him. The man looks up, slightly startled, and then smiles briefly at Viktor.

“I remember,” he agrees.

Viktor holds out a hand. “Viktor Nikiforov.”

“I know,” replies the man as he shakes it. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

“How long have you been involved here?” wonders Viktor as he takes one of the small bottles of water that the host has offered.

Yuuri takes a sip of his own water. “Not long,” he admits. “My friend Phichit — my scene partner? — and I usually do our own thing. Mostly suspension bondage and shibari, though — I find it helps me relax.”

“Really,” says Viktor. “Seems a little stressful, hanging up there.”

“You don’t have time to stress when you’re devising new ways to tie people up,” replies Yuuri. Viktor laughs.

“So most of those forms were your idea?” he wonders.

Yuuri nods. “Phichit’s very conscientious,” he replies. “He’d never do anything out of my limits.”

Viktor hums. “Are you two… together?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “We’re actually roommates.”

Viktor nods, an idea already coalescing in his mind. He might not have come here to play, but… “Would you be interested in a scene with me?” he asks.

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “A scene?” he echoes.

“Mm, perhaps adding a little acting to your formidable tying skills. I’d love to have you tie me up and have your way with me.”

He can’t help but laugh when he sees the blush creeping across Yuuri’s face at the suggestion. “But… but you’re usually a Dominant,” the man remarks. “You’re one of the best — Phichit and I actually got into all of this because we saw one of your routines on PornHub.”

Viktor laughs. “The one with the St Andrew’s Cross?”

Yuuri nods, his blush deepening. Viktor can’t help it — he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind the man’s ear.

“I saw a spark in you, Yuuri,” he admits. “And everything I’ve gotten from our conversation suggests you have the makings of an excellent Dominant. I’d love to see what you can do.”

“I’ve never — “ Yuuri cuts off, hiding his flaming cheeks behind his hands.

“But you’ve _wanted_ to, haven’t you?”

Yuuri nods. Viktor leans in, lips ghosting along the shell of Yuuri’s ear.

“Let me teach you,” he suggests, and Yuuri trembles in a way that tells Viktor his decision before he even hears it.

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees. Viktor grins, and presses a kiss to his hand.


	2. follow me through the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: Please continue what you wrote I need more of that. There is so little actual healthy BDSM writing going on in fanfiction. And yours was great. Pretty please?_

“So, tell me more about what you like,” says Viktor. Yuuri swallows, feeling his cheeks heat up under the man’s intent blue stare.

“I’m not _completely_ sure?” he manages after a moment, trying not to let his gaze rake over Viktor Nikiforov’s collarbones just peeking out of his shirt, or the cling of those sinfully tight jeans to his ass, or the barest patch of skin that shows when he raises the bottle to drink. The party music is loud, pulsating. Yuuri feels giddy just standing here and taking Viktor in with his eyes.

“You like bondage, it seems.” Viktor points out.

“I like most things that you’ve made videos of.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Even the petplay one?”

Yuuri hides a blush behind his hands. “ _Maybe_ ,” he hedges.

Viktor hums, tapping at his lips with one finger. “How about things you absolutely won’t do?” he asks.

“I don’t like humiliation,” replies Yuuri.

“Giving or receiving?”

“Neither.” It just isn’t for him. He’s just not interested in degrading someone, or having them do it to him. But Viktor nods, understanding.

“What about impact and pain?”

“Impact is fine. Not so much pain for the sake of pain.” Yuuri shrugs.

“Sensation?”

“Sure.”

Viktor smirks. “And you know you’re going to be the Dom tonight, right?”

Yuuri swallows. They’re at a _party_. There are people _watching_. Everyone’s probably here to watch Viktor Nikiforov slap around and fuck someone (and then wrap them in blankets and cuddle them, but no one really sticks around for that part); they wouldn’t be here to watch _him_ do that to Viktor.

And yet, the idea of having Viktor submissive, pliant, _his_ — the thought of having Viktor give up all of that power to _him_ and only him? That’s a new sort of intoxicating. He wants it more than anything else right now.

“I… I don’t know if…” he begins, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Viktor chuckles.

“Don’t worry. I think you’ll be just fine.”

Yuuri bites his lip. “I’m not very experienced,” he warns.

“You’ve got _some_ ; just look at your performance.”

“How would we even start?”

Viktor chuckles. The rumble goes right to Yuuri’s cock. “Do you trust me?” he asks. Yuuri swallows, nods. He looks up into Viktor’s eyes; Viktor looks back at him and winks.

“What are you going to do?” Yuuri breathes, as Viktor smooths a hand over his hair and turns towards the crowd.

“Watch me, and react as you see fit,” he says, and then he’s disappearing among the people, a brilliant sparkle in his eye and a coy smile tugging at his lips. Yuuri follows, hesitant at first, until he sees what Viktor is doing.

He’s teasing someone. A woman in a red dress, a man in browns and greens — it doesn’t matter. Viktor’s fingers linger on their arms, his laugh just a little _too_ friendly, and Yuuri realises exactly what Viktor is doing just as the man reaches a tall blond man with an undercut and glasses.

And as he sees Viktor press kisses to the man’s face, he feels something bright and burning cut through him. Viktor is his. _They’d had a discussion about this._

He clenches a fist and stalks across the room to where Viktor is standing, talking to the blond man, and growls, “Down on your knees, Vitya.”

Viktor’s eyes go wide before he scrambles to comply.


	3. let me take you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompts: i am here to be the ask that may provide us with the actual scene for the play party au. i am v impatient_   
>  _play party au — victor and yuuri’s first scene together?_

When Viktor had first suggested Yuuri do a scene with him, he hadn’t anticipated _this_. This — kneeling down in just his pants in front of Yuuri with his hands in his lap and his throat exposed — is so much more than he’d anticipated, and he loves it.

“Do you like it, Vitya, when everyone looks at you?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor feels a shiver run down his spine at the dark look in the other man’s eyes. Does Yuuri know just how beautiful he looks right now? Because if Viktor had been less disciplined, he’d be drooling. As it is, he keeps his gaze slightly averted, trying his best to look chastised.

“Of course you do — look at that blush. You love putting on a show for everyone, Vitya. But let me tell you something. When you’re mine, you’re _mine_. And I’m going to remind everyone just exactly who owns you right now.”

Viktor feels his stomach flutter. That low dangerous purr in Yuuri’s voice, that possessive trailing of his fingers across Viktor’s shoulder blade, that spark in his warm brown eyes — Yuuri is so perfect and talented, and Viktor has never felt prouder of himself for making the right call.

“On all fours,” instructs Yuuri, and Viktor complies, presenting his ass as he presses his wrists to the carpet. “Yes, like that. Now stay like that, as still as you can.”

Viktor hopes trembling with anticipation doesn’t count as moving. Yuuri trails a finger along his vertebrae, before leaning in to whisper:

“Colour?”

“Green,” Viktor replies.

Yuuri nods. He lowers Viktor’s pants, exposing him. Goosebumps run down Viktor’s skin at the feeling of Yuuri’s hands ghosting along it, the touch just barely a whisper away.

He feels the whoosh of wind, but the strike he’s bracing for never comes. Instead, Yuuri rubs a hand down his ass, kneading at the flesh. Viktor whimpers, just a little disappointed.

“What did you think I was going to do?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor swallows. “I thought you were going to spank me.”

“Why would I do that?” wonders Yuuri. “You’re clearly anticipating it. You like the idea too much. Naughty little brats don’t get what they want.”

Viktor cracks a smile. “I’m naughty?” he teases.

He hears a huff. “I don’t like it when someone who is clearly _mine_ doesn’t act like it,” states Yuuri, and god if that phrase doesn’t make Viktor get harder. Yuuri’s hand strokes along his left cheek before skimming down his thigh. “What are we going to do, to remind you of who you belong to?”

Viktor says nothing to that, merely shivers at the feeling of Yuuri’s fingers along the insides of his thighs. The fingers move higher, _higher_ — but when they get close to the apex of his legs, they skirt away. Viktor whines.

“Did you really think I’d let you have your way so quickly?” wonders Yuuri, caressing Viktor’s right cheek before pinching it quickly. Viktor gasps at the sudden burst of pain, drowned out in pleasure as Yuuri’s other hand brushes the tip of his cock. Every touch is a little too light, a little too brief. But Viktor doesn’t dare move, not even to chase after the feeling of Yuuri’s fingers on his skin.

(“Colour?” Yuuri murmurs.

“Green,” breathes Viktor.)

Yuuri steps away for a moment, and Viktor hears a glove snap before Yuuri is gripping his cock more firmly in one hand, while the distinct feeling of a gloved finger slips up to circle his entrance. He bites back a needy whine, tries his hardest not to buck his hips back onto Yuuri’s fingers — but then both hands move away, and Viktor lets the whine loose.

“What were you expecting me to do?” wonders Yuuri innocently. “Maybe you should ask for what you want instead of acting out.”

“Please,” begs Viktor. “Touch me properly.”

“I have no idea what that means,” retorts Yuuri, even as his finger comes back up and presses gently against Viktor’s hole. Viktor gasps.

“Spank me. Finger me. Fuck me. I don’t care — just _do_ something. Please don’t tease me like this.”

He hears a thoughtful hum. “That can be arranged,” Yuuri muses, squeezing Viktor’s ass before sliding a lube-slicked finger up to Viktor’s entrance once more.

How can Yuuri take him apart with just his fingers? Viktor’s elbows tremble a little from remaining on all fours throughout this — he wants nothing more than to collapse against a pillow and _feel_. Feel Yuuri around him, inside him, his fingers working Viktor apart with each press, each touch. He’s sinking two, _three_ fingers in, loosening him, reducing him to nothing but incoherent thoughts and drool. The idea of a world existing outside of Yuuri seems to fall away completely.

Yuuri asks him for his colour again, and Viktor barely gasps out ‘green’ before the fingers withdraw, and there’s the crinkle of a condom wrapper, the rustle of gloves being removed, and _then_ —

Viktor cries out. He’s not sure what for, though, or what he said. But it makes Yuuri’s hands clench in his hair and his hips snap forward, burying the rest of his cock deep inside Viktor, and _god_ this is a sweet burn he’s missed. He hadn’t expected, going into this scene, to find that Yuuri can fill him in more ways than just physically.

And that’s when Viktor realises he wants more of this. Needs more of this. Not just the feeling of Yuuri fucking him so hard he forgets how it feels to be fucked by someone else, but also the feeling of waking up to service him every day, kneeling at his feet, giving him the stars and the moon.

And maybe it’s a little soon to think that of someone he’d just met, but Viktor knows at least one thing: Yuuri is talented. And Viktor doesn’t want to let that talent go to waste.

“Please,” he begs, and Yuuri’s hips pick up their pace, slamming into him so hard he’s seeing stars the next time he blinks. One of Yuuri’s hands grips his cock again, pumping the shaft until Viktor could swear the next touch would send him over the edge.

And yet it doesn’t come. Yuuri stills, and Viktor whines as the previously-solid grip becomes feather-light, teasing. Who knew this man could torture him so sweetly? He blinks, and only then catches a glimpse of their enraptured audience, all left breathless before the release like he is.

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, feeling the ache in his arms and the tremble in his legs, the tension coiling in his stomach and the racing of his heart. “Please, Yuuri, let me come.”

He feels Yuuri smile against his ear, and his hand resume a firmer stroking. “Yes, Vitya,” he says. “Come for me.”

And on the next thrust, Viktor does.

* * *

Viktor sees Christophe in the crowd after the performance. Yuuri has wrapped him in a blanket, and Viktor is lying in his lap on the nearest couch, still feeling the stretch of having Yuuri inside him.

“I thought you weren’t going to do a scene,” Christophe remarks.

Viktor hums, shrugs. The words aren’t quite coming to him in this moment, especially when Yuuri runs a finger through his hair and Viktor forgets even his name.

Christophe chuckles at him. “Nice to see you taking it for once,” he says. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Probably feels that way, at least.” And his eyes flicker down. Viktor makes a face.

“He’s been a sub before?” Yuuri asks. Christophe chuckles.

“He and I used to switch before we started tag-teaming my subs,” he replies easily. “And that was a stunning performance you put on…” he trails off, raising an eyebrow.

“Yuuri,” offers Yuuri. “I saw you with my friend Phichit.”

“The one who tied you up earlier?” Christophe grins. “He mentioned it’s your first time here. Not bad for a first party, huh?”

Yuuri laughs. Viktor watches his blush reappear, and melts a little at the sight. “I can’t believe I did that,” Yuuri admits, brushing some hair out of Viktor’s. “Getting all possessive. I just met him.” He looks down at Viktor. “You,” he amends.

Viktor huffs, reaching one hand out of the blanket burrito he’d been wrapped into to pat Yuuri’s cheek. _Don’t worry_ , he tries to convey with his eyes. _I loved it._

“I think he’s going to want you to do that to him again,” says Christophe, because of course he’d know how to read Viktor during his post-scene highs. “That’s the face of someone who loved what just happened to them.”

“Again?” Yuuri asks. Viktor gestures for his phone, and Christophe hands it to him. Viktor pulls up his contacts form, and hands it to Yuuri.

“That means he wants to see you again,” Christophe offers, as Yuuri raises an eyebrow at the phone.

Yuuri snorts, and ruffles Viktor’s hair. “I figured as much,” he says, but there’s still a quiet awestruck tone to his words as he types in his number.

Viktor grins as he takes the phone back and saves the contact. He then takes Yuuri’s hands and presses kisses to the backs, and savours the man’s quiet giggles with each kiss.


	4. colour of my blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: I need more pornstar victor pls_

“Yuuri, look at this,” Phichit says. 

Yuuri bends over Phichit’s shoulder. “How did we get into this situation?” he asks.

“What?” wonders his roommate. “You and me looking at BDSM porn together on Friday afternoons? I’m… not sure myself.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “What’s the video of the day?” he asks, and Phichit responds by pressing play. 

The video is a bit grainy, clearly taken on a phone at some sort of party. There’s a man, shirtless in sinfully tight black jeans, silver fringe falling into his eyes as he examines another man restrained to a St Andrew’s cross with his back to the audience. He tugs at the man’s restraints a little, before leaning in and whispering something into the man’s ear.

Yuuri’s not sure what’s being said, but the other man trembles, tilting his head back as the silver-haired man presses a kiss to the side of his neck, his fingers trailing along the man’s quivering shoulders before dipping down to cup his ass. 

Yuuri gasps when the silver-haired man’s hand slaps the other man’s ass,  _ hard _ . There’s a whimper, a collective intake of breath from the audience. The music pulses, and the silver-haired man strikes again, his movements precise and restrained. Yuuri can see the tremble in his muscles, as if he’s pacing himself, as if this is just warm-up for something bigger.

“Who is he?” he asks Phichit, who pauses the video to scroll down to the title:

_ VIKTOR NIKIFOROV PUNISHMENT SCENE _

Phichit whistles as Viktor gently caresses his partner’s cheek before striking again. “Seems to be at a party of some kind.”

Viktor strikes his partner again, before pressing a kiss to one shoulder blade and stepping back. The crowd cheers at the bright red handprint blooming across the partner’s bared ass before Viktor is back, running the flat of a paddle down the man’s back. He presses the handle to the man’s lips, and receives a kiss.

_ Smack _ . Yuuri bites down a groan along with the partner. The paddle thuds through the other man, causing his body to quiver, causing Yuuri to wonder how it’d feel to experience that himself. He looks down at Phichit, who seems to be examining the video with curiosity. “Phichit?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think there’s more videos of… this guy?”

“Of Viktor?” wonders Phichit. On the screen, Viktor has stepped away from his partner with another kiss to his shoulder, exposing a series of bright red hearts on the man’s skin, raised from the imprints from the paddle. The crowd cheers. Yuuri feels a shiver run down his spine.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“I think he’s got an entire channel,” Phichit says. He runs the search, and pulls up dozens of videos, some of them clearly performances at parties, others recorded from more private sessions. “Yeah, damn.”

Yuuri swallows, looking through the titles.  _ Viktor Nikiforov fucks his slave. Viktor Nikiforov spitroasts innocent twink with Christophe Giacometti. Viktor Nikiforov suspension bondage. _

He points to that one. “Let’s watch that one,” he suggests. 


	5. set my heart on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: fucking hell this play party au im ??? i didn't know i needed this but now i want nothing else ??? viktor fucks his slave ??? like alright id like to thank not only god but jesus_

Yuuri has to admit, out of all of Viktor Nikiforov’s videos on PornHub, this one is his favourite.

Maybe it’s because the title is completely misleading in certain ways — the sex is hot, yes, and the slave in the video does appear naked and kneeling at Viktor’s feet and so _pliant_ to his commands — but the entire thing takes place in a well-lit living room, and Viktor snuggles into his sub afterwards and lavishes them with praise before he turns off the camera, and it’s…

It’s perfect.

Yuuri’s jerked off at least ten times to it now.

“ _Please fuck this slave harder, Master, please don’t stop_ ,” the slave mewls. Yuuri’s hands reach down into his sweats, curling around his cock. Phichit’s out drinking tonight with some friends from his film history class, and probably won’t be back until late. And it’s not like he doesn’t know that Yuuri has a fixation on Viktor’s videos. They’d gone through the man’s entire oeuvre together, after all.

“ _Yes_ ,” murmurs Viktor, his voice gentle yet firm, that Russian accent sparking a direct line to Yuuri’s already painfully hardened cock. “ _I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll never feel satisfied with another man’s cock in you_.”

Yuuri bites back his own moan at the sight of Viktor’s fingers tugging the slave’s hair back, exposing their throat for bites and marks. “ _Remember that you’re mine_ ,” Viktor hisses, and Yuuri closes his eyes as his hands pump at his cock, letting the words seep into him. _Mine_. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he was?

He’s managed now to be able to time himself to the exact moment that Viktor comes, grabbing the tissues just as soon as Viktor instructs the slave to turn so they’re facing Viktor with knees spread and head bowed. He steps forward, extending a foot to the slave’s lips for a kiss before he lowers it and rubs it against the tip of the slave’s cock.

“ _Please, Master_ ,” begs the slave. “ _Let this slave come_.”

And Viktor does. And Yuuri watches Viktor clean up both of them before wrapping a blanket around the slave and pressing kisses into their hair.

“ _You were so good_ ,” he purrs, dropping the Master persona almost completely. Yuuri feels a tingle in his stomach. “ _So perfect for me, for the camera_.”

“ _I’m glad_ ,” says the slave, and Yuuri wishes more than anything that they could trade places.


	6. touch me like you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: but what about the first time victor invites yuuri to his apartment for a scene, the first time victor gets to coax yuuri into dominance? how yuuri responds to the power victor is giving him—how his confidence builds every time victor tells him how well he's doing?_

“Are you sure about this?” Yuuri asks. Viktor holds up the rope to his lips, and presses a kiss to the blue silken strands.

“Absolutely,” he says. Yuuri swallows, starting to run the rope around Viktor’s wrists. It’s just a simple set of handcuffs, nothing too complicated. They have safety scissors on the nightstand. Viktor’s hands are still, at the right length apart. He just has to wind…

“You’re thinking too much, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers.

“It’s… It’s hard,” confesses Yuuri. “Getting back into the mindset I had at the party. I’m just — I’m just worried.”

“That’s all right.” Viktor’s gaze is steady, reassuring. “You’re going to be just fine.” He pauses. “After all, the last time I subbed was years ago, so I can’t even begin to make comparisons!”

Yuuri claps a hand to his face. “ _Viktor_ ,” he growls through his fingers, as he tugs the rope he’s winding back around a little tighter than necessary. Viktor laughs, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“You don’t want to punish me for being mouthy, Yuuri?” he teases.

“I don’t think it’d be right,” replies Yuuri. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Really? What if I told you about the last Dom I played with? Christophe and I played with his last slave this one afternoon, and I couldn’t help but notice —”

Yuuri sighs, dropping the rope. “I don’t think you’re helping right now,” he confesses. Viktor makes a thoughtful hum, his gaze flickering up and down Yuuri’s body, reading him like a book. Yuuri shivers.

“When’s the last time someone told you how sexy you were?” Viktor asks after a moment. Yuuri blinks at him, racks his brains. Phichit had called him all manners of compliments, but that had been _Phichit_. It’s almost part of their banter at this point.

Viktor makes a tsking noise. “Well, then. How are you going to be a good Dom if you don’t at least have a little confidence in yourself?”

“This was your idea,” Yuuri states baldly. Viktor lets the rope drop, so that he can cup Yuuri’s face in his hands and bring him closer. Fixed by the intensity of Viktor’s blue stare, Yuuri swallows.

“The gift of submission is borne out of trust,” Viktor says, his breath tickling Yuuri’s face. “And that trust is rooted in the confidence that the Dom will take care of the sub. But you don’t need to pretend to know everything in order to gain that trust. You just have to be confident in the fact that you’ll be there for them.”

“I —” Yuuri breaks off, worrying at his bottom lip. “I do want to be there for you,” he says after a moment. “But then I start worrying about all the things that could go wrong, and I get scared.”

Viktor hums. “Would it help, then, if I let you know just how much I want you?”

Yuuri blinks. “What?” he breathes.

“Look at all of this power you already have over me, _Yuuri_ ,” says Viktor, letting go of his face to sprawl back against the pillows, exposing his pale, perfect throat. Yuuri licks his lips, arousal burning low in his gut. He wants to mark up Viktor’s skin, wants to leave all sorts of little bites and bruises so that everyone else who even _looks_ at him knows that Yuuri had been there.

He blinks at that sudden thought, his breath escaping him as Viktor nuzzles into the duvet, looking at Yuuri through long silver lashes.

“Look at how much you affect me, Yuuri,” he purrs, bucking his hips a little. Yuuri looks down, noticing the tenting in Viktor’s pants. “I’m already so hard for you, waiting for you to use me.”

Yuuri’s mouth goes dry. He trails a hand down the expanse of Viktor’s stomach, savouring the way the other man arches into it, a low moan escaping his throat.

His hand reaches down into Viktor’s pants, running a finger around the tip of his cock. Viktor’s lashes flutter at the touch; he bucks his hips with a little contented sigh. Yuuri feels his own briefs get just a bit tighter at the sight.

“That’s so good,” says Viktor, humming contentedly as Yuuri continues to run his hand up and down his shaft. “Look what you’ve reduced me to. Look how good you make me feel.”

Yuuri laughs, his hand stilling so he could push Viktor’s pants off his hips. “You’re still speaking in coherent sentences, so maybe I’m not doing my job right.”

At that, he’s rewarded with Viktor flinging his arms around him, bringing him closer. “That’s the spirit!” Viktor laughs, his breath tickling at Yuuri’s cheek before he kisses it. “Now come on, make me forget my own name.”

Yuuri grins, and straightens up to remove his own briefs. He can’t help but feel a spark of pride as Viktor gapes appreciatively at his cock. Leaning in to capture Viktor’s lips, Yuuri brushes himself up against Viktor and feels the other man tremble in response.

“I intend to, Vitya,” he says, and the only response he gets is an appreciative moan and a tug at his hair.


	7. you're the fear, i don't care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: would yuuri ever get anxiety performing in front of an audience??_

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“We don’t have to.” Viktor runs a hand through Yuuri’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Yuuri’s breath is coming in shallow bursts; the knuckles of his hands are white.

“But everyone’s expecting…” Yuuri looks around them at the party, at the loud music, the moving bodies. “It’s in five minutes…”

“Your well-being is more important, Yuuri,” says Viktor, before wrapping his arms around Yuuri. “Breathe with me.”

And even though being close to Yuuri never fails to get his own heart racing, he starts to take deep breaths, letting Yuuri match his patterns. Viktor closes his eyes for a moment, letting the noise of the party fall away until there’s nothing but the two of them.

“Maybe if we don’t do suspension?” Yuuri wonders after a moment. “Something simpler and less dangerous?”

“What did you have in mind?” Viktor wonders, rubbing circles into Yuuri’s shoulders.

“What was the position you suggested last week? The one on your knees with your hands in front?”

“Bracelets?”

“Yeah. I tell you to get down in that, and I do the rope handcuffs with enough left for a lead to tie you to the pole.”

“And then what?” asks Viktor, hiding his grin in Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri considers it. “Impact or penetration?” he asks.

Viktor hums. “I like the sound of both,” he remarks.

“I don’t want to hurt you, though.”

Viktor can feel Yuuri’s breath hitching a little. “Breathe with me,” he reminds him, and Yuuri nods, the two of them resuming their embrace. “You’re not going to hurt me, and I’ll let you know if it gets too much,” he whispers.

“I won’t use the crop for too long, then,” promises Yuuri. “When I tie you to the pole, kneel to the whip for impact, and then we’ll check in from there?”

Viktor grins against his shoulder. “ _Perfect_ ,” he trills, already feeling the warmth of arousal seeping through him from these new plans. He kisses Yuuri’s forehead again. “You’re so good to me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri flushes. “Okay then,” he says, and takes a deep breath. Viktor watches, with delight, the way Yuuri shifts his body subtly, slips into his Dom space, channels all of his bravery and confidence so that he can make himself worthy of Viktor’s trust.

( _But he has it already_ , Viktor thinks.  _He has it already, just by being himself_.)

“Take your clothes off and get down on all fours,” commands Yuuri when he opens his eyes, and though there’s a flash of panic in there momentarily Viktor can see it just as quickly vanish as he watches Viktor’s fingers fly to obey him. “I want you crawling out there with me.”

Viktor’s grin grows wider. “As you wish, _gospadin moy_ ,” he declares, and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders.


	8. never been so high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: Speaking of play party au, how about a scene where Yuuri lets his Eros character takeover and worries when it's over if it was too much, despite Victor reacting positively?_

“Well, then.”

Viktor keeps his gaze fixated to Yuuri’s shoes, not saying a word. His brain feels like it’s floating slightly above his body, borne up there by the stinging pleasure of the crop that had, until recently, been used against his ass. He can still feel echoes of it reverberating in his muscles somehow.

Yuuri pushes his foot forward a little, and Viktor thrills at the movement. Yuuri very rarely demands obeisance from him, saying that he doesn’t want to take whatever Viktor might not be willing to give, but this time there’s no hesitation in the gesture. Viktor’s wrists are still tied in the rope handcuffs to the pole, but with a little wriggle he manages to lean out and kiss Yuuri’s shoe.

“So obedient,” purrs Yuuri.

Viktor shivers a little at his voice, unable to stop the moan that escapes his throat as Yuuri bends down and tugs his head back by his hair, exposing his lips and neck. Yuuri’s kiss is rough, predatory, and Viktor melts into it. With each nip against his bottom lip, Viktor feels himself flying higher and higher. Even after Yuuri has moved onto ravishing his neck, Viktor’s lips still seem to tingle with the ghost of Yuuri’s teeth.

Yuuri claims his lips once more after he’s left a trail of marks down the column of Viktor’s neck. This one is gentler, but still as firm, still a clear mark of ownership. Viktor is glad he’s on his knees, because he’s pretty sure if he’d tried to stand now, said knees would only give out. He lingers a little longer even after Yuuri pulls back, his face upturned and his eyes closed.

That earns him a chuckle. “You want more, don’t you Vitya?” wonders Yuuri. “Turn around.”

Viktor isn’t quite sure how to do it, because the rope handcuffs are quite tightly bound to the pole, but he manages after a moment. The rope digs into his wrists, but he tries not to let it show.

Yuuri also gives no sign that he notices. _He’s fully in his space_ , Viktor vaguely realises. That flash in his eyes, that determined set to his jaw — Yuuri is eros personified right now, especially as he gestures for Viktor to spread his legs, and Viktor complies. The hard floor of the stage digs into his back. It’ll probably leave the same kind of imprints as it had on his shins. He finds he doesn’t really mind.

Still, he winces a little when his sore ass meets the floor. Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice as he examines Viktor’s form.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his crop tracing along Viktor’s jaw. He begins to unbutton his jeans; immediately Viktor begins lifting his hips towards Yuuri, presenting himself.

One of Yuuri’s fingers trace around his hole. Viktor gasps, but he moans louder when Yuuri’s other hand begins to pump at his cock. He feels more than knows — especially given the soreness — one of Yuuri’s fingers slipping into him, quickly followed by a second, a third. He’s not sure where Yuuri had gotten the lube. But then again, he’s not completely certain of anything right now.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Vitya,” Yuuri breathes. “I’m going to fill you up, wreck your ass for any other cock that might try to take you in the future.”

Viktor’s not sure why he’s feeling lightheaded. Maybe it’s because all of the blood in his body seems to be concentrated in his dick right now. Maybe it’s because of the way Yuuri says how he’s going to ruin him. Either way, he makes a needy whine, bucking his hips a little into Yuuri’s fingers.

“Did I say you could demand anything?” wonders Yuuri quietly. Viktor freezes immediately.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Please, _gospadin moy_. I need your cock.”

Yuuri doesn’t need telling twice. He only takes a couple minutes to slip on a condom and slick himself up, and then before Viktor knows it Yuuri is filling him, brutally hard, punishingly fast, and cruelly sublime.

Even in most of their other scenes, Yuuri doesn’t ever lose control quite like this. There’s usually a degree of reservation, of hesitancy. But not tonight, it seems — tonight, the pace of Yuuri’s hips are more punishing than a machine’s. It feels like he’s fucking Viktor apart, and Viktor _loves_ it.

He’s being rendered unintelligible; with each thrust into him he remembers less and less of the world beyond Yuuri’s cock, beyond the beautiful soaring sensation that only Yuuri can give him. He doesn’t know what’s being pulled from his throat right now; for all he knows he could have reverted to speaking Russian.

He’s flying now, the pleasure too much for him to handle. He wonders what he must look like to the people in the crowd, tied up and fucked like he’s nothing more than Yuuri’s cocksleeve. _God_ , even the thought of that makes what’s left of his head spin with delight.

Each thrust of Yuuri’s cock is like another reminder of who owns him, and belonging to Yuuri has never been something he wants more. Viktor feels himself come before he becomes aware of it, his hips jerking upwards even as his cock spills white ribbons across his stomach.

Yuuri comes after him, pulling out of him far too quickly for Viktor’s liking. He takes a deep breath, and Viktor dimly watches the sharpness of Dom-space fading from Yuuri’s face as he reaches out to touch Viktor’s cheek.

And then he quietly freezes and gasps. “Did I just…”

Viktor smiles. “Help me out of these?”

Yuuri scrambles to obey, even as the audience applauds and begins to move on from their scene to another, and the party rages on, the music loud and abrasive to Viktor’s ears. He feels sore all over, in the most delicious of ways, and once his hands are free he rubs his wrists gingerly. Guilt flashes across Yuuri’s expression at that.

“I’m so sorry, I just — I got too into character — I should’ve checked in — you’re not hurt, are you?”

Viktor chuckles. “A little lotion and I should be fine, Yuuri. You did beautifully.”

“But I —”

Viktor leans in, presses a kiss to his cheek. “You were exquisite, Yuuri.”

Yuuri still seems sceptical, and Viktor’s brain itself is still partly reeling from the scene. When Yuuri drapes a blanket around him and helps rub soothing lotion onto his wrists and ass, Viktor leans into the touch with a contented sigh. He wonders how much of his sappy adoration is visible on his face. Based on the flush in Yuuri’s cheeks, probably a lot of it.

With only a little staggering, Yuuri scoops him up in his arms and quickly collapses with him onto the nearest couch. Viktor laughs delightedly at that, nuzzling into Yuuri as soon as they’re situated. “See, you’re so good at what you do,” he murmurs, thrilling at the gentle fingers in his hair. “I love it so much. And I love you, too.”

“That’s just your endorphins talking,” says Yuuri, but the flush deepens, and Viktor’s heart sings.


	9. fading in, fading out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: I like the party au very much! I sort of want to know if and how it becomes an actual relationship for them in your au._

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The little notification on his phone says that he’s going to be late for his meeting with Viktor, but Yuuri only turns off his phone at that, turning in his bed and groaning into the pillow.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Viktor. Not at all. Viktor is in fact one of the highlights of his week. It’s the stuff that comes around seeing Viktor — the expectation to _perform_ , to know what he’s doing, to make the decisions — that has him refusing to move from the bed.

Ten minutes. He wouldn’t be able to make it in ten minutes. But Viktor deserves an explanation. But Yuuri is a little terrified of calling, no matter how much he wants to hear Viktor’s voice.

So he texts. _Sorry, I can’t make it to today’s scene. I’m not feeling well_.

Yuuri frowns, considers his options. _Just more tired than usual_ , he says.

And he gets a response within a couple of minutes. _What’s wrong_?

He can almost hear the contemplation in the bubble that indicates that Viktor is typing. After a couple of minutes, the response comes. _Do you mind if I come over? Not for a scene, if you’re not feeling well_.

Yuuri contemplates it. Phichit is out right now, but he’ll be back soon. Viktor coming over isn’t necessary, and yet — _That’s fine. You know the address_?

 _Yeah_. Viktor sends him a smiley. _I’ll be there soon_.

And soon he’s in Yuuri’s flat, laden with takeout boxes and ice cream. By then Yuuri has somehow managed to get himself to the couch, lying down wrapped in his blanket while watching Viktor putter through the kitchen area. “I brought some food,” Viktor tells him, “and a movie.”

He hands Yuuri a pint-sized tub of ice cream. It’s chocolate, Yuuri’s favourite, and it sparks a curling of warmth in his stomach.

“Thank you,” he manages quietly, as Viktor brings over a plate of food and sits down on the couch next to him, his body stiff with hesitancy. Yuuri smiles at him, shifting deeper into his blankets as he tries to open the tub of ice cream.

“Let me help,” Viktor suggests, and he opens the container easily, scooping out a spoonful and offering it to Yuuri.

The chocolate melts sweetly on his tongue. Yuuri savours it, opening his mouth for another spoonful almost as soon as it’s gone, and Viktor offers it without hesitation.

“I’ve been here before,” Viktor says after a moment. “People don’t talk a lot about top drop, but it’s similar to subdrop and probably worse if it’s not addressed. The Dom is responsible for the safety and care of their sub, and an unhealthy Dom means an unhappy sub.”

Yuuri nods, as Viktor feeds him another spoonful of ice cream. “I really did want to go today,” he says after a moment. “But it just — there’s so much expectation? And — well, especially after last time — I keep on worrying that I’m going to lose myself again and hurt you, or worse, disappoint you.”

It feels good to have that out in the open, a little. And the way Viktor’s ice-blue eyes melt at the sound of his words makes something indecipherable rise in his chest.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, setting down the ice cream. “You are never going to disappoint me. Everything about you turns me on — I swear I come into every scene with new ideas I hadn’t thought I’d want to do until I realised I could do them with you. And that’s what this is about — exploring new things with you.”

His hands are covering Yuuri’s now, gentle, understanding. He presses kisses to them, each touch of his lips eliciting a responding flutter in Yuuri’s stomach. Yuuri had known, from some of the snippets of the aftercare on Viktor’s videos, that this man, who was capable of domination in the most intense of ways, was also conscientious about caring for his scene partners. But he hadn’t really realised just how _much_ Viktor would do for them.

“Do you say that to all of your partners?” he asks, mostly as a joke, but Viktor’s expression crumples a little when he looks up, as if Yuuri had said some devastating betrayal.

“I remind my subs of how good they are, how wonderful they’ve been,” Viktor says quietly, after a moment of absentminded stroking along the back of Yuuri’s hand. “You’re all of that, yes, but you’re _more_.”

“I’m your Dom,” Yuuri points out. Viktor chuckles.

“This isn’t coming out of scene space to satisfy you, Yuuri,” he says. “Like I said, I’ve been here before. It’s a long, lonely drop as a Dom, you know. And I didn’t want you to have to go through that by yourself.”

Yuuri exhales, and shifts so that he’s snuggled up against Viktor’s side. He feels the other man relax into him as well, one arm coming to rest around his shoulders. Viktor is warm, gentle; Yuuri wants nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms for the rest of his life.

“Viktor?” he asks quietly.

“Hm?” Viktor looks down at him, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s temples. Yuuri’s heart races a little faster at that.

“Thank you,” he says. “For coming here and taking care of me.”

He hears a chuckle. “It’s the least I can do, Yuuri. I want you in top form next time we play.” And he winks.

Yuuri shakes his head. “Terrible,” he says.

Viktor’s smirk only widens. “You don’t find me at all…  _punishing_?”

Yuuri snorts. “Just go play the movie,” he commands, and Viktor’s smirk morphs into that lovely heart-shaped smile as he goes to put on the movie.


	10. a holy grail i've got to find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: how about a play party extension where victor films one of his and yuuri's scenes?_

Phichit had known his flatmate was seeing someone. He hadn’t anticipated that it would be fucking _Viktor Nikiforov_.

Or that his flatmate would be _fucking_ Viktor Nikiforov, for that matter.

“ _Viktor Nikiforov gets his holes filled by mysterious Japanese stud_ ” is… probably not the best title for the video that Phichit is watching right now, as he’s pretty sure Yuuri would die of embarrassment at being called a stud. His face is blurred out in the video — he’d obviously consented to having it up, but not showing his face. Which is fine, considering that most people watch these videos for Viktor anyway.

But Phichit would know his flatmate’s body anywhere, especially after those afternoons tying Yuuri up in knots to help him calm down. Shibari can be a very cerebral activity, and Yuuri had looked fantastic afterwards. (Phichit may or may not have gotten photos.) And besides, there’s really no mistaking that ass, though Phichit has to admit he’s uncomfortably turned on by the way it moves as video-Yuuri thrusts his dick down Viktor’s throat. Just the way he’s gripping Viktor’s hair, tilting his head back, fucking his mouth — Phichit has to bite at his fist to stifle any undignified noises he might have made at the sight.

“ _You like this, Vitya, don’t you? Like having me use you like this? And with good reason too — you feel so good, Vitya, taking my cock like this_.”

Phichit’s not getting a boner for his flatmate. Definitely not.

“ _I bet your ass will feel just as good around me_ ,” Yuuri says, and _fuck_. Phichit moves his mouse down along the timeline, skipping ahead because he has to know how this ends but he doesn’t want to linger too long on how _hot_ Yuuri sounds.

Viktor’s gone from kneeling to lying on his back with his hands tied behind him, his legs spread, and his thighs and calves frogtied together. The most obscene noises are coming out of him now, as Yuuri thrusts hard into him, biting and nipping along his neck as he does.

“ _More_!” whines Viktor, as Yuuri’s hips pick up the pace. “ _Idi cil'nyeye, bol'shye, gospadin moy_ — ” and then he tilts his head back and moans. And Phichit really _should_ click out of this video, but he’s riveted by the way the two move, by how Yuuri’s hands can’t seem to leave Viktor’s body, how his gaze (though blurred) can’t seem to leave Viktor’s face.

“ _You’re so good, Vitya. So perfect. All mine_.” Yuuri’s voice sounds slightly strangled. “ _Would you like to come now, Vitya_?”

Viktor nods, his eyes closed and his face flushed in pleasure. Phichit watches Yuuri’s hand move to stroke Viktor’s cock, coaxing out his release.

He skips ahead once more to the end of the video. Yuuri is untying Viktor from his ropes, wrapping him in a blanket, getting him a drink of water. Even though Phichit can’t see his face, he’s fairly certain that Yuuri is smiling as he rubs soothing circles into Viktor’s shoulders.

Yuuri then reaches towards the camera and turns it off. Phichit clicks out of the browser window, deciding right then and there that he’ll never, not even under pain of death, ever tell Yuuri that he happened to have watched his video with Viktor Nikiforov, and liked it. Because surely this has got to be a limit in their friendship.

Yuuri comes home later that afternoon with a bag full of groceries and his cheeks flushed from the cold air outside. “I have something to tell you, Phichit,” he says as he sets down the bag. Phichit, who had long since occupied himself with things other than looking up his flatmate’s porn videos, raises an eyebrow as he looks up from his laptop.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I’m seeing Viktor Nikiforov.”

Phichit swallows. “That’s cool,” he says.

There’s a pause. “You sound less shocked than I expected you to,” Yuuri remarks.

Phichit chuckles weakly. “ _Really_?”

Yuuri hums the affirmative as he turns back to the groceries, and Phichit exhales.

(Oh, god. If only Yuuri knew.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference: Viktor in his capacity as a professional Dominant does not have sex with clients. Any videos he makes that has sex in them are with partners, not clients. If clients want videos made, then those will not have sex in them.


	11. you're the cure, you're the pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: "He’s seen Viktor so sick that he can’t remember his own name" i would love to see this if you're up for it!!!_

“Hello?” asks Yuuri, knocking on the doorframe of the open bedroom door.

All he gets in response is a disgruntled whine from the pile of blankets in the bed. Gingerly, Yuuri clambers onto the bed, peels back the topmost blanket, and is confronted with a mess of silver hair and baleful blue eyes.

“Viktor, are you okay?” Yuuri asks quietly, looking at him.

Viktor blinks up at him. “Who?” he asks.

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “ _You_ ,” he says. “Viktor.”

“Me?” Viktor’s brows furrow. Yuuri raises the other eyebrow, too, before brushing some hair out of Viktor’s eyes and feeling his forehead in the process.

“You’re a bit feverish,” he remarks.

Viktor makes a vaguely disgruntled noise. Yuuri chuckles, pressing a kiss to his brow before getting the thermometer from the bathroom to check up on his temperature.

Sure enough, Viktor’s nearing 38 degrees, so Yuuri fetches the bottle of acetaminophen from the bathroom as well as a glass of water from the kitchen, and returns to Viktor’s room with both.

He hands Viktor a tablet, and Viktor struggles slightly to sit up in bed before taking it. Yuuri also has to help him with the glass, setting it on the nightstand before tucking him in again.

“You’re so nice,” Viktor mumbles, his voice thick and heavy with weariness. “So nice to me.”

“Of course I am; I care about you.” Yuuri says, just as the door nudges open again to admit Makkachin, who bounds onto Viktor’s bed to lick his face. “Makka, _down_ ,” instructs Yuuri, and the poodle settles by Viktor’s side on the bed.

Viktor laughs. “You sound sexy when you do that,” he says.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “You’ve pointed that out to me before, yes,” he intones.

“But I really like it,” says Viktor. “Can you do that to me?”

Yuuri laughs, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s forehead. “You’re sick,” he points out.

“You’re very pretty,” replies Viktor. “Your eyes are pretty.”

“Thank you.” Yuuri brushes some more hair from Viktor’s face. “Get some sleep,” he suggests, and turns to leave, but he’s stopped by a tug on his wrist.

“Stay with me,” pleads Viktor. “You’re so warm and soft and good to me. I want you to stay.”

Yuuri chuckles and sighs, lying down on top of the mess of blankets next to his partner. “Alright,” he says. Viktor yawns. “Go to sleep, Vitya.”

“I like that.” Viktor’s voice is heavy with sleep, a couple syllables short of a coherent sentence. “Sleep with me.”

Yuuri snorts. “I’m already doing that,” he says, tucking his head against the crook of Viktor’s shoulder. “You go to sleep, and then I’ll go to sleep, too.”

“Promise?” Viktor asks quietly.

Yuuri nods. “Promise,” he says, and makes a point of closing his eyes and waiting for the rise and fall of Viktor’s chest to even out in sleep.


	12. let you set the pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: ok but what about when yuuri gets too overwhelmed with life and needs victor to take control for a little while and make the decisions?_

Viktor can tell there’s something off the instant Yuuri walks through the door. His lover’s shoulders are slumped; there’s a strange tension in his neck, and the usual sparkle in his brown eyes is dulled somewhat.

“Bad day?” Viktor asks. Yuuri nods numbly, crossing over to the couch and slumping down, tossing his book bag onto the coffee table. Viktor goes over to him, stopping just before the couch. Yuuri’s arms come around him, hugging his midsection.

Viktor lets him hold him like that, perching one knee on the couch to insinuate himself a little closer. One of his fingers runs through Yuuri’s hair, and he can feel the other man relax just slightly, muffling a sigh somewhere along Viktor’s hipbone.

“Do you need me to take over tonight, love?” he asks quietly, and feels Yuuri nod. Viktor smiles a little, before bending down to press a kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri relaxes into the touch, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and deliberate. _He must have gone through so much today_ , Viktor thinks. _But at least I can give him a break_.

They never said this connection, as beautiful and nebulous as it is, couldn’t go both ways.

After a moment, Viktor gently peels himself away from Yuuri. “I’m going to fix you a cuppa, love, and then I’m going to make dinner, and we’ll eat it together.” He pauses, gauging Yuuri’s expression. The man seems a little lost, a little starved for contact after what must be a pressing day. “And then after, we can either cuddle, or we can play.”

Yuuri frowns a little. Viktor chuckles, bending down to cup his face and kiss his nose.

“Look, you won’t need to be Dom if we play tonight, all right? I was thinking something light — sensation play, blindfolds? What do you think?”

Yuuri nods eagerly. Viktor grins.

“Excellent,” he says, and kisses Yuuri gently. “Be a good boy, then.”

Yuuri cups his hands in the shape of a heart. Viktor’s grin only widens, and with a little spring in his step, he heads to the kitchen to fix Yuuri a cup of green tea.


	13. every inch of your skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: lily lily aaa whenever you feel up to it and have the time please write that sensation play drabble for the play party au. im sure you'll have me dying and i really need that so. love ya_   
>  _what if yuuri was having a rough day and lets victor take control of their play for a while?_

Viktor doesn’t usually like blindfolds. He doesn’t like not seeing his partners, or not seeing the look in his partner’s eyes. Being able to gauge the state of his partner based on a single shift in the shine of their eyes is something he has honed in his pursuit to become an excellent Dominant.

But if there’s one constant about his relationship with Yuuri, it is that everything he has ever held to be true about his likes or dislikes is changing, shifting, being reexamined from the inside out. Now he is no longer certain of the clarity of his boundaries, but as long as it’s with Yuuri, he feels up for anything.

(And he’s certainly  _up_ for everything right now, but that’s a different story.)

Viktor doesn’t usually like blindfolds, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that Yuuri looks good in one right now, the silken black material wrapped snugly around his eyes and tied into a soft bow. It’s the only thing he’s wearing, too, the harmonious contradictions of his body displayed like a feast for Viktor’s hungry gaze. Soft and hard, shy yet confident — Yuuri always seems to have a hidden part of him that comes out when Viktor least expects it, and discovering each new one makes his heart thrill.

Slowly, he makes his way to the bed where Yuuri is lying. “Just relax,” he suggests. “I’m here, Yuuri. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you.”

Yuuri visibly exhales. Viktor chuckles quietly, before clambering onto the bed so that he’s hovering above Yuuri, one gloved hand stroking down his cheek. Yuuri gives a small shiver, the tiniest of moans escaping his lips as Viktor’s hand tilts up his chin to better present his lips for a kiss.

“Remember, Yuuri, no touching,” Viktor breathes against his lips when they part, and Yuuri makes a hum of obedience, a little flush appearing in his cheeks. Viktor grins, his fingers now trailing along Yuuri’s collar before ghosting down his chest, his touch as light and teasing. Yuuri rewards him with a sigh, his body trembling with the temptation to arch into Viktor’s hands.

In turn, Viktor pulls his hands away, looking at the supplies on the nightstand table. Removing one glove, he then reaches over to the bowl of ice sitting next to the candle and takes a cube, returning to hover it just inches from Yuuri’s skin.

“Can you feel that?” Viktor murmurs. Yuuri nods. The ice cube presses down, and Yuuri hisses, and then gasps, and then sighs. The ice cube circles one nipple, and then the other, followed by the warmer caress of the still-gloved other hand, and Yuuri tilts his head back against the pillows and _moans_.

(And if that isn’t the sweetest torture to Viktor’s already-tightening trousers, then he doesn’t know what is.)

He runs the ice cube down the into the softness of Yuuri’s belly, circling his navel before travelling back up again to slide along his ribcage. Yuuri, in turn, breathes into the touch, shivering slightly whenever the ice cube skirts by sensitive areas.

The trail of the ice is followed by Viktor’s other hand, the leather of the glove soft against Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri trembles, his breath shuddering out of him, his body warm even through the layer between them.

Even that layer is too much after a moment. When the ice fully melts, Viktor lets the tips of his fingers linger, taking off his other glove with his teeth before looking over at the candle burning slowly on the nightstand.

The oil the candle is melting into smells sweet and fragrant. Viktor blows out the flame and takes the container. “Turn around for me, love,” he whispers, and Yuuri complies, resting his head on his arms with a sigh.

Viktor straddles Yuuri’s thighs again, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmurs; Yuuri nods, and Viktor slowly begins rub the oil into his back.

He keeps his touches firm but soothing, working out the knots and tensions in Yuuri’s shoulders as he does so. Yuuri hums in pleasure under him, so soft and pliant in a place where Viktor usually sees him as hard and confident. It thrills him, knowing that he’s the only person who will ever see Yuuri like this, who will ever have Yuuri in this way.

Slowly he kneads out the tensions in Yuuri’s shoulders, along his back, down his legs, along his feet. Yuuri rewards him with sighs of contentment, moans of pleasure, and every single one of them makes Viktor’s heart sing and his blood pound until he feels almost delirious with want.

It’s been a long day for both of them, but at least in this — in his service — Viktor can give something besides his submission to Yuuri. Can show in a new and different way just how much he loves and cares for him.

“Does it feel good?” Viktor asks quietly, as the last bits of oil are rubbed in. Yuuri hums and nods, and Viktor laughs at that, kissing the nape of Yuuri’s neck before clambering off him. He lets Yuuri rest for a moment, before suggesting:

“You can turn around again.”

Yuuri does, his hands reaching out blindly for something of Viktor’s to touch once he settles. Viktor laughs, meeting Yuuri’s hand with a feather tickler and laughing at the crinkle in Yuuri’s brow when the feathers slide out of his grip to tickle at his ribs.

Yuuri gasps at the tickler, spasming involuntarily with his laughter. Viktor clambers back onto his legs with it, following the tickling feather-trail with his tongue. Down he goes, closer and closer to where Yuuri’s cock is already leaking pre-come, and chuckles when he finally wraps his fingers around its base.

Yuuri arches into Viktor’s touch then, a soft moan escaping his lips, and Viktor has to tamp down the urge to follow his fingers with his mouth. But god, he wants to. Wants to feel the familiar thickness of Yuuri inside his mouth, to unravel him with just his mouth alone. And, based on the faint trembling, Yuuri wants it, too.

He gives in after a moment longer of stroking, setting down the tickler to envelop Yuuri’s cock in his mouth. Yuuri’s fingers grip hard at the bedsheets as Viktor swallows down on him, clearly itching to touch Viktor but knowing he cannot. Even such a small gesture of obedience makes Viktor’s heart race faster, and he keeps his gaze fixed on the minutiae of Yuuri’s face and body as he moves along his cock.

An idea strikes him. “Let me know if you don’t like this,” Viktor murmurs when he pulls back, before putting an ice cube in his mouth and leaning up to kiss Yuuri again. Yuuri gasps at the initial chill, his fingers curling in the sheets as he kisses back.

The ice cube slowly begins to melt, making his kisses sloppier as he moves from Yuuri’s lips to his jaw, down his neck, along the expanse of his body until he is back to Yuuri’s cock. Despite most of the ice having melted by then, his mouth is still cold when he presses it to the tip. The shuddering sigh that escapes Yuuri’s lips at the contact tells him he’s on the right track.

Viktor is gentle again, his tongue and mouth slow and languorous, savouring the taste of and the texture of Yuuri’s skin. It’s an act familiar to him by now. He couldn’t possibly count the number of times he’s sucked Yuuri off, but this time feels almost like the first. Now that he has free rein to touch, to command, to explore — it’s like discovering his lover all over again, and it thrills him like nothing else.

He knows Yuuri is getting closer now, based on the raggedness of his breaths, the tightening of his fingers in the sheets. Viktor quickens the pace of his mouth, wringing out more small, wrecked noises from Yuuri, so different from the noises he makes when he’s the Dom. With a little jolt, Viktor remembers the Yuuri he had first met at the party, and how beautiful his submission had looked then.

He wants more of that, now. Not that he wants to change everything, but he’d also like some nights like these, nights where he got to show Yuuri his own techniques, his own style. Nights where he could love and care for Yuuri in every possible way possible.

His hands still, and Yuuri whimpers. “Let me be inside you,” Viktor murmurs against Yuuri’s hipbone, eyes glancing up in time to see the blindfold flutter as Yuuri nods. Viktor helps him spread his legs, and reaches for the lube on the bedside table.

Preparing Yuuri is sweet, slow torture. He is so pliant, so receptive to Viktor’s fingers as they thrust into him. It’s all a preview of things to come, and Viktor’s poor, neglected cock strains in his trousers at the prospect. With one hand, he undoes his zipper to palm at himself, breath shuddering out as he times that hand with the fingers currently fucking Yuuri open.

Yuuri makes a half-strangled sob, and finally finds his words. “ _Please_ , Viktor,” he begs. “I love you. Please fuck me.”

Viktor doesn’t need any further encouragement. He cleans his hands, discards his trousers and pants, and rolls on a condom. When he sinks into Yuuri’s tight heat moments later, it takes all of his self-control not to come right then and there.

He pauses when he is fully inside, letting Yuuri adjust to him. “You can touch me now,” he breathes, one finger lifting the cloth of the blindfold. Yuuri’s hands come up to help him get rid of the cloth, and then they make short work of his shirt buttons as well.

“ _Move_ ,” Yuuri grinds out, his voice low and hoarse in the way that reminds Viktor of those grumpy mornings just before Yuuri’s had his coffee. It’s like he’s waking up, that little spark of dominance no longer content to lie dormant, and Viktor _loves_ it.

“Your wish is my command,” he teases, before digging his fingertips into Yuuri’s ass and beginning to thrust.

From that moment on, it is nothing but heat and closeness. At some point the shirt is discarded, too, moments before Viktor hooks Yuuri’s legs over his shoulders and pounds harder into him, pressing in on Yuuri’s body until he’s almost bent in half. At this angle, Yuuri’s kisses feel more desperate than ever, especially as Viktor punctuates each kiss with a thrust into him.

He reaches between them, taking Yuuri in hand once more and savouring Yuuri’s needy little sob as he brings him to climax. Yuuri is flushed and teary from overstimulation, Viktor’s name falling from his lips in a steady mantra. With just a couple more thrusts, Viktor follows quickly after, gasping Yuuri’s name in quiet reverence as his heartbeat races ahead of him.

Yuuri curls into his side once Viktor gets rid of the condom and wipes the come from Yuuri’s stomach. Wiping the stray tears from Yuuri’s eyes, Viktor settles him in closer with a soft, contented hum.

“You were perfect,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “We should do this more often.”

“Mm,” agrees Yuuri, yawning as he idly traces a heart across Viktor’s chest, just breaths away from the spot where Viktor’s real heart beats.

“How are we feeling?”

“Mm,” replies Yuuri, flashing him a thumbs-up. Viktor chuckles, pressing another kiss into Yuuri’s hair. In turn, Yuuri moves up along his chest and captures his lips, slow and sleepy and sweet.

And with that, Yuuri lays his head back down on Viktor’s chest, and Viktor can only hope that the slowly steadying beat of his heart will lull his lover to sleep.


	14. never knew that it could mean so much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: You're right, it's definitely an actual relationship. I didn't mean my wording to make it seem like I look down on it. And this fic (or ficlet collection) doesn't need a plot to be lovely. I just love reading about people making each other's lives better (could be one good shared memory, or a lifechanging relationship)._

Yuuri’s not quite sure when it first clicks.

Maybe it had been there since the first time he set eyes on Viktor, exuding grace and power even over a grainy cameraphone feed. Maybe it had been there since Viktor first asked him to do a scene, his expression playful and voice gentle as he told Yuuri just what he’d like Yuuri to do to him.

Or maybe it had been the first time he dropped, and Viktor had been there to catch him. Or the first night he stayed over, existing outside the scene space with Viktor, snuggled into him in a king-sized bed with Viktor’s poodle, Makkachin, curled up beside them.

(Yuuri’s always a little grateful that Viktor gets someone in his apartment building to dogsit Makkachin around the time of their scenes. He’s pretty sure he’d be even more mortified otherwise.)

He knows Viktor’s a professional Dominant; the man sometimes takes other clients in addition to ‘training’ Yuuri. But he knows there’s something different between him and them — and not just in the fact that when it’s with him, Viktor becomes soft and playful and pliant, like a little puppy eager to be told he’s a good boy.

(Yuuri loves that, more than he’ll ever admit.)

No, it’s also because Viktor lets him stay. Lets him see him outside of all possible personas, shows him all the sides of him that he’s tucked away from his viewers and his clients alike. He’s seen Viktor so sick that he can’t remember his own name; he’s seen him frustrated with people criticising the contents of his videos for not being too ‘hard’ enough (“ _There’s so much hardcore BDSM porn out there already! I want to contribute something that’s less intimidating, Yuuri, why can’t they understand that?_ ”); he’s seen him flying and dropping so many times that he can now tell when Viktor’s in subspace without even needing to ask.

And through it all, he _cares_. Cares so much that his heart may just burst.

His phone pings with a message from Viktor. _I can’t wait to see you this weekend_ , it says, with a long string of heart-eyed emojis, and Yuuri laughs as he types out his reply.

_I can’t wait, either._

Because now it’s clicked inside him that this is something he wants for a very, very long time, and he has to prepare some way to tell Viktor that.

So with a smile, Yuuri grabs his laptop, and begins looking up collar sites.


	15. love me like you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _lily you...you cannot just tell us that yuuris gonna buy viktor a collar and then not give us that excellent material_   
>  _play party au — they get collars ! !! !_   
>  _yuuri buys viktor a fucking collar im dead. deceased. death by play party au rip me put this on my gravestone_

Yuuri is nervous.

No, that’s a bit of an understatement. ‘Anxious’ might be a better way to put it. ‘Petrified’ would be just as kind. The street just outside the window of this quiet little bistro is completely devoid of tall silver-haired Russians with heart-shaped smiles, despite Viktor having sent him a message about how he’s on his way over at least five minutes ago.

Playing with the stem of his wineglass as he looks out towards the street for the umpteenth time that evening, Yuuri tries not to think about anything and everything that could have gone wrong with Viktor. He could be held up on the commute over. He could be injured. Or sick. Or kidnapped.

Or he’d suspected, and is now subtly trying to tell Yuuri that it’s not a conversation he wants to have. It’s not like Yuuri can blame him. This is a very important thing he’s trying to ask, almost on par with marriage, if the conversations at his last munch had been any indicator.

Viktor is also a professional Dominant, after all. It’s not like Yuuri is his one and only. That’s something they’d established a long time ago, though admittedly Yuuri is the only person Viktor plays submissive for. He’s the only one Viktor lets below the personas he’s constructed for the camera and his clients, the only one who’s allowed to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him.

He’s special, obviously, but that doesn’t mean he can take for granted any sort of response Viktor might have to his suggestion.

Yuuri feels a hand on his shoulder, and almost jumps out of his chair before he sees that it’s Viktor, dressed smartly as always as he takes a seat at the table. Yuuri feels his heart skip a beat at the warmth in Viktor’s eyes, at the smile on his face. Viktor takes his right hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long,” Viktor remarks. Yuuri laughs, shaking his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, as the server comes back to ask Viktor if he’d like some wine. Yuuri smiles, watching Viktor accept a glass of pinot grigio before sighing, and saying:

“I want to formally collar you.”

Viktor pauses in his perusal of the menu to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Collar,” he echoes. Yuuri nods. Viktor purses his lips briefly, as if testing the concept out in his mind. Yuuri watches, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in his stomach.

Viktor opens his mouth, as if to respond, but then their server returns to take their orders. Yuuri orders for both of them, almost as if on autopilot; Viktor’s brows crease just slightly at that.

Yuuri notices, of course, and swallows worriedly at the sight.

“Well?” he asks quietly.

Viktor blinks, looking at him. “You were talking about formal collars,” he remarks.

Yuuri nods. “I was,” he agrees. “What do you think?”

Viktor toys with the napkin folded on his plate. “I’m…” he trails off, and takes a sip of his wine to delay his response. “I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yuuri nods again. “It’d be different from being collared in scene,” he says.

“I know what it means in our group, Yuuri,” Viktor reminds him. “I’ve been involved in it longer than you have.”

Yuuri swallows. “Sorry,” he says.

Viktor smiles. “It’s fine.” He unfolds the napkin, puts it in his lap. “I’ve never been formally collared before. Nor have I done it to anyone. Lifestyle wasn’t my thing, and it’d probably affect my performance in my profession, so…”

Yuuri nods. “I understand if it’s not something you want to do.”

Is he disappointed? Possibly. But is he going to let this affect them? No. It’s clear already how committed Viktor is to him. Getting a formal collar would’ve only been window dressing.

Their food comes. Yuuri waits a moment, trying to gauge whether or not Viktor wants him to feed him. When Viktor looks at him with an eyebrow arched, his hands still folded in his lap, Yuuri nods and reaches over to cut up and portion his food, scooping up small bites of risotto with his fork and offering it to Viktor’s lips.

Viktor eats, quietly and obediently. But while this usually would have caused Yuuri’s heart to race, right now all it’s doing is make his stomach churn.

(He can say all he wants about not letting this affect him, but still the nerves crawl in, sink into his brain and his bones until it’s all he can think about with each bite of food Viktor takes from his fork.)

He turns to his own food after a moment, poking at his own pasta without much interest. Viktor watches him, expression enigmatic; Yuuri finds it difficult to meet his gaze.

Does Viktor think he’s a bad Dom? The thought squeezes at his heart in a cold vise, makes his breath come short and a lump rise in his throat. Maybe this is the end for them, the end of something that had given him so much joy over the past several months. Viktor wants him, but not as much as Yuuri wants him back, and even though he knows he has to be strong about this all he wants to do is crawl back to his flat and cry.

“Yuuri,” says Viktor after a moment.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “What.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be obvious.”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“Something smaller, less formal.”

Viktor’s cheeks are flushing a lovely dusky rose, and Yuuri can’t help but get lost in the sight. Why is this man so beautiful, so perfect? How can he so consistently take Yuuri’s breath away?

“Yuuri?” Viktor reaches out, touches his hand. Yuuri startles out of his reverie. “Did you hear my suggestion?”

Yuuri swallows, feeling his own cheeks heat up. “You said something small,” he mumbles. “Less formal.” Not like he would’ve wanted to do a collaring ceremony, anyway.

“I would want the ability to take it off when I work,” explains Viktor. “I don’t think I could do it with a formal collar. But I do want something to show that I’m committed to you outside my work. Something that everyone will know means that I am yours and yours alone.”

Yuuri feels the warmth seeping from Viktor’s voice settling into his bones, chasing his doubts and fears away. Viktor still wants him. Still thinks highly of him. He racks his brains for things he could get them that would be small enough to show commitment but could be taken off if needed, things that everyone would recognise —

His gaze falls on the jewellry store right across the street from their bistro, and startles with a sudden idea.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he says, gesturing for Viktor to stay as he grabs his wallet and sprints out of the restaurant.

When he returns, Viktor raises an eyebrow at him. Yuuri shakes his head, as if asking him to drop it until they’re done with dinner, and Viktor sighs, bowing his head to accept some more bites of his risotto. Yuuri finishes his own plate in almost record time, and asks for the bill.

“Why the sudden rush?” Viktor wonders. Yuuri shakes his head again, practically shoving his credit card at the server in his haste to get the bill paid. His wallet is burning a hole in his trousers and he needs to get out into the air, to find a good location —

It’s only when they’re walking back to Viktor’s flat — he’d suggested they go there for the night — when Yuuri spies the church across the street from the little playground. It’s an old stone structure with carefully wrought iron doors, sparkling golden under the city’s streetlamps. People are passing by it without a second glance; pigeons are gathered on its steps, scavenging for food. Yuuri pulls Viktor across the street as soon as the cars stop and brings him up to the doors.

“I found something I hope you’ll take as a suitable alternative to a collar,” Yuuri says by way of opening, fidgeting slightly under Viktor’s stare as he reaches out to peel the man’s right glove back. Viktor blinks at him, a spot of colour appearing in his cheeks and radiating outwards as Yuuri brings out a golden ring from his wallet and, with shaking fingers, slides it onto his fourth finger.

“ _Oh_ ,” Viktor breathes, an enraptured smile curling across his face as he stares down at the band, glinting even in the bright city night. “It’s _perfect_.”

Yuuri feels the last of the tension in his stomach melting away. “I have a match,” he says, holding out the other.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” asks Viktor quietly.

Yuuri nods, and Viktor responds by removing his right glove as well, and sliding the ring onto his finger with equally trembling hands. There’s a strange shining in his eyes as he does so, and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat.

“No one’s ever done something like this for me before,” Viktor says after a moment, evidently still lost in the glow of the ring on his finger. Yuuri smiles, clasping his hand. “It’s just formal enough for us to know what it means to one another, but innocuous enough for others. You’re a _genius_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri chuckles. “I thought you were hinting at it earlier?” he wonders.

Viktor laughs. “Maybe I was subconsciously,” he concedes. “But I hadn’t thought you’d go buy us _wedding rings_. You never fail to surprise me, my love.”

And that easy admission, that casual endearment — that only makes the golden balloon that’s been filling Yuuri’s chest since Viktor mentioned his willingness to formalise a commitment expand to near-breaking point. He’s leaning in before he really realises it, and Viktor is meeting him halfway, and the kiss is perfect. Not like the obeisances, not like the demands in-scene, not even like the gentle exchanges of care and affection surrounding those scenes.

This kiss is the kiss of a new beginning, and Yuuri’s heart sings with it.


	16. can't see clear no more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: play party au: what about gloryholes_

When the blindfold comes off his eyes, Viktor notices that he’s in a completely nondescript room.

Well, nondescript isn’t quite the word for it. The walls are covered in lewd scrawls, scratched-in names, stains of substances he doesn’t care to know about. Save for the chair that he is sitting in, the only other piece of furniture in this room is the large mirror mounted on the wall facing him. Just above that is a camera, and the sight of it sends a shiver down his spine.

Viktor rises to his feet and leans forward to examine the mirror. His fingers skim across the glass briefly, tips never quite touching their reflections. Someone must be watching from the other side.

Yuuri must be watching from the other side.

Viktor looks up at the camera and smiles, flashes a thumbs-up. The lights in this room are just bright enough to chase away the shadows, obscuring nothing from view. In turn, his heart races in heady anticipation.

With a deep breath, Viktor closes his eyes and begins to unbutton his shirt. The room is playing music, too — something heady and frantic, club-like, and his heartbeat keeps time to it as each button comes undone. The music thrums in his veins, heating up his blood. When he finally gets to the last one, he let the shirt hang off his shoulders a breath longer before letting the material fall to the floor.

He flashes a wink at the camera then, before moving his hands back down to toy with the zip of his jeans. Slowly, Viktor rolls them down his hips, kicking them off gracelessly once they’re past his knees. He’s not quite hard yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Yuuri is out there, watching him through the mirror, but Viktor half-wants him inside him already.

He swings the chair around, straddling it and flashing his best pair of bedroom eyes at the camera. _Come and get me, boys_ , he says, in the crook of his finger and the tilt of his hips and the wink of his eye, and it only takes a minute for someone to respond.

There are two holes in this room, both within arm’s reach of the chair. Heart racing, mouth watering, Viktor watches as a cock slips through one of the holes, precome pearling from its slit. It’s not Yuuri’s — Viktor could recognise Yuuri’s cock anywhere — but it is a pretty one anyway, and he’s itching to know how it feels, how it tastes. So he reaches out and takes it in hand, savouring the warm solidness of the shaft beneath his fingertips and the slickness of the head bumping against his lips.

He traces the slit with his tongue, lapping up the sticky saltiness of the precome, before slowly sliding the length into his mouth. It’s been a while since he last tasted a cock that isn’t Yuuri’s, and this is a fine substitute for now. There’s a pinkness to the tip that’s almost endearing, and Viktor can hear the stilted breathing of the person on the other side as he begins to suck.

It takes him a couple bobs of his head before he hears the other person on the other end groan. With a smirk, Viktor pops his lips off the cock and asks, “How are you liking it so far?”

The person on the other end inhales sharply. Viktor chuckles, licking along the underside of the man’s cock and earning himself another whimper.

“You know, it’s a shame the hole’s too small for your balls,” he murmurs against the velvety skin. “I would’ve loved to play with them.”

Another ragged sigh. “A-Are you always this mouthy?” the stranger grumbles.

“Temper, _temper_ ,” Viktor teases.

“Put your pretty mouth to better use,” instructs the stranger, so Viktor complies, taking him into his mouth again. Once, twice, he goes down as deep as he dares, letting the tip of this cock touch the back of his throat briefly before pulling away and swirling his tongue around the tip. With each suck, each lick, warmth pools in his stomach. His briefs suddenly feel a lot tighter.

Finally, the stranger tenses against Viktor’s touch. “I’m close,” he warns.

“Then come,” replies Viktor, before resting his tongue against the slit.

The stranger does. It’s messy and sticky and hot; stray strands of it fly across Viktor’s face. As soon as the cock retreats, he wipes his face, swallows, and licks his fingers clean. Turning to face the camera, he flashes it a smile before turning to the new cock that has just slid in through the hole on the opposite wall.

This one is a little shorter, but also a little thicker. Viktor pumps at it, marvelling at its girth as it slides through his hands. The person on the other end is quiet, save for a couple ragged pants when Viktor wraps his lips around the tip and laps his tongue along the slit.

The warmth pooling in his stomach is heating into something harder, sharper. As Viktor hollows out his cheeks and starts to suck, he can’t help but slide one hand down the front of his briefs, intent on helping himself chase a little relief.

But apparently Yuuri doesn’t want him to do that, because moments later there’s a new cock sliding through the first hole. Viktor leans in, tracing the distinctive vein on this cock with his tongue before running a thumb along the head and grasping it. Now with both hands occupied, Viktor begins to stroke both cocks in tandem.

This is exactly what he needed. It’s a brief respite for his jaw, and now he doesn’t have to devote all of his attention to one cock. Still, he’s already anticipating soreness in his face and hands after all of this, never mind the possibility of Yuuri’s _cock_ —

He still has to prepare himself for Yuuri. Just the thought of that makes the heat in his belly flare up a little once more. But there’s no lube in the room. At least, not yet.

“I’m —” the stranger with the veined cock suddenly chokes out, and Viktor turns just in time to catch a faceful of come. It drips, hot and needy, down his cheeks and off his chin, and he lets go just in time to catch it, rolling the slick around with his fingers until they are completely coated.

The stranger withdraws, and Viktor returns to pumping the other cock, taking it into his mouth so that he can free up his hands to begin preparing himself. His jaw protests at the sudden stretch, but he perseveres, gagging only a little as he takes the entire length down his throat.

With his freed hands, he pulls down his briefs and grasps the length of his own aching erection, smearing his precome along already slicked fingers. There’s a sudden soft flump, though, and he pulls back and turns to see a packet of lube lying on the ground behind him.

“Thanks,” Viktor says to no one in particular, and rips the packet to coat his fingers.

Preparing himself while simultaneously sucking off the dick in front of him requires a little extra manoeuvring, but somehow Viktor finds a rhythm, rocking his mouth back and forth as he presses one, two fingers inside himself. The burn in the base of his spine is slow, sweet. The burn in his jaw is a little less so.

But finally, the stranger he’s servicing comes, and Viktor catches every drop this time in his mouth, swallowing down the salty bitterness as he watches the stranger recede. Finally, with a little respite, he kneels and rests his head on one forearm as he works the fingers inside him.

Briefly, he turns and catches a glimpse of himself, already looking debauched with his briefs barely dangling off one leg, his ass in the air with his fingers working his hole open. His own erection twitches a bit at the sight, heat flooding his face as he continues to watch. Vaguely, he wonders what Yuuri must think of the sight from his vantage point on the other side of the mirror. Does Yuuri like it? Is he hard already, touching himself, readying himself for this?

His musing is interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. Viktor looks up to see another cock at attention, waiting for him. He leans up obligingly, then, and takes it into his mouth.

“Hold still,” suggests the stranger. “I’m sure you must be tired. Let me fuck your mouth.”

And Viktor obliges. The cock slams into his mouth with unexpected force, causing him to gag a little. The burn is back, a low ache that makes his jaw feel like it’s going to dislocate any second. But still he remains, letting the stranger pull out and then thrust back into his mouth over, and over, and over.

This is an unexpected, but not wholly unwelcome pain, accompanied by a soreness only familiar to Viktor through exercising. The stranger’s thrusts are fast, relentless, and Viktor unconsciously finds himself timing his own fingers to that. He’s up to three fingers now; he’s as loose as he’ll ever be and he just can’t wait for Yuuri’s dick, where is it, _where_ —

The stranger _finally_ comes, and Viktor barely catches the dribbles of come this time. With shaking hands and wobbling knees, he rises to his feet and crosses over to the chair once more, grasping himself by the root of his cock and starting to stroke.

“Yuuri, _please_ ,” he begs, looking out at the mirror. “I need you, gospadin moy.”

There’s a pause, and then another cock slips in through one of the holes. Viktor doesn’t know which hole, nor does he particularly care, because it’s Yuuri. He’d recognise that cock anywhere — he’d memorised its shape, its texture, even its taste.

And so, Viktor begins to lick and suck with a dedication he hadn’t offered to any of the others. In this new context, he rediscovers Yuuri’s sensitive spots all over again. When he presses a kiss to the tip and then flicks his tongue into Yuuri’s slit, he’s rewarded with a gasp and a choked-off whimper.

He imagines, briefly, Yuuri biting down on his fist to avoid making any particularly untoward noises, imagines Yuuri grabbing at something else because he can’t tug Viktor’s hair. Smirking, Viktor pops his lips off Yuuri’s dick and asks the wall:

“Did I put on a good show for you, gospadin moy?”

A hum from the other side. “Yes, Vitya, you were so good to the others,” murmurs Yuuri, his voice quiet yet still sultry. Viktor imagines him standing on the other end of the partition, eyes smouldering with that familiar intensity that thrills him to the bone.

His breath hitches anyway. “S-So you liked it?” he asks.

The pause is a little longer this time. “Of course,” Yuuri breathes, his voice now hoarse. “You looked so good, Vitya, preparing yourself for me like that.”

“I need you,” repeats Viktor, punctuating the words with kisses along Yuuri’s shaft, “inside me.”

“Yes,” agrees Yuuri, and then he asks, “condom?”

Viktor shakes his head, before he realises that Yuuri can’t see him now. “I need to feel you fill me,” he says, and grins a little at the sudden sharp hitch in Yuuri’s breath.

Turning around, then, Viktor lines himself up with Yuuri’s cock, pressing back against it until Yuuri is sinking into him, hard and familiar and _deep_. He wrests a soft sigh from Yuuri’s lips as he takes Yuuri’s cock all the way down to the hilt, even the smallest of breaths from his partner sending a familiar shiver of delight coursing down his spine.

Slowly but surely, Viktor begins to move, propping a leg onto the the chair for leverage as he pushes and pulls, rises and sinks. Yuuri’s breath grows ragged on the other end of the partition; at one point he bites down a moan, and Viktor almost comes from that alone. He angles his hips again, and this time Yuuri’s cock brushes against his sweet spot, and Viktor has to blink away stars.

He knows he’s close, that he’s been close all night and is only barely hanging on. He knows Yuuri must be close, too, as he thrusts shallowly against the snap of Viktor’s hips. “Talk to me,” Viktor begs, fucking back against Yuuri, pressing his ass against the cold graffitied wall of the room.

“You’re doing _so_ good,” Yuuri gasps, his voice a little higher in his desperation. “ _So_ good for me, Vitya.”

“How close are you?” Viktor asks.

“So _close_ ,” chokes Yuuri, his voice already so _wrecked_. “Just a little —”

Viktor comes first, release sweet like the first gasp of air after holding one’s breath. He hears Yuuri’s bitten-down gasp of Viktor’s name when he comes as well, feels the heat of Yuuri’s seed shooting inside him. But he is too lost in himself, his mind drifting far from his current location as he bonelessly pulls away and collapses into the chair, sprawled and exposed for the camera with come splattered over his face and oozing out of him.

There’s the sound of something unlocking; moments later a door appears out of the back wall of the room. Yuuri strides over the doorway with a blanket in his hands; Viktor can barely smile because all the muscles in his face are now protesting.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Yuuri suggests sweetly, pressing a kiss to his hair as he wraps the blanket around Viktor’s shoulders. “You did so well, my dear.” And with a surprising display of strength, he hefts Viktor into his arms and heads or the door. “Just relax, okay? I’ve got you now.”

And Viktor has never been so eager to obey.


	17. my head's spinning around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: play party au -- heavy aftercare scene_

Even just half a year ago, if someone were to tell Yuuri Katsuki that he’d someday be arranging for some people (Phichit, Christophe, and some of their mutual friends) to do a gloryhole scene with his partner, he probably would have laughed at them.

But now, it’s as if some unknown boundary has been crossed. Something in the way Viktor curls up tighter in Yuuri’s lap, in the way he stretches and rumbles at the feeling of Yuuri’s fingers in his hair — there’s a closeness here that Yuuri cannot quite name, an intimacy borne only out of facing something new and terrifying together, and coming out stronger together for it.

The cab drops them off at Viktor’s building, and Yuuri helps him all the way up to his flat. Viktor’s clothes are rumpled and he still smells strongly of sex, despite the perfunctory cleaning that Yuuri had done. But the pounding of the club music had started getting to both of them now that they were coming down, and going home had felt like a good idea.

Yuuri barely makes it to the couch before Viktor tackles him onto the cushions. His smile is indolent and warm as he snuggles against Yuuri’s stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, his voice like molasses oozing between the cracks of Yuuri’s defenses. “So good. All mine.”

“You were the real star,” Yuuri replies, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s forehead. “You did all of that. You put on a show for everyone.”

“Were you watching?” wonders Viktor, for the third time.

“I couldn’t look away,” replies Yuuri, a little blush tinting his cheeks. 

Viktor grins. “Good,” he says, his voice sing-song. “Didn’t want you to.”

Yuuri feels his heart fill close to bursting with warmth at that, even if he knows it’s borne out of a deep subspace-driven high. He leans down, peppering more kisses across Viktor’s face, running his hands through Viktor’s hair with a fond smile. 

“I never thought we’d ever be like this,” he admits after a moment. “I hadn’t even anticipated us meeting at all, let alone…” he gestures between them. “I still sometimes wonder if I’m dreaming.”

Viktor hums at that almost thoughtfully, before reaching up to cover Yuuri’s hand with his own. “You’re not,” he says simply. “I’m the one who’s dreaming. When you’re paid to be someone’s Dom, you don’t develop deep connections with your clients. You have to be confident and reliable. You have to play by their fantasies. And you have to take care of them.”

Yuuri’s heart skips a beat as Viktor moves his hand to his lips, presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“But with you, it’s — it’s different. With you I can be helpless and small again. I can be cared for. I can have a say into what we want to do.” Viktor pops one of Yuuri’s fingers into his mouth, tongue teasing along the tip. “I’d always wanted to be in a gloryhole, but everyone keeps thinking I should be on the other side instead.”

“I know,” says Yuuri, faint pink tinting at his cheeks as he watches Viktor’s tongue lightly circling his fingertip. “It’s why I planned it like this.”

Viktor’s grin broadens, but then he winces, touching his jaw. “Ah, it’s still a little sore,” he mumbles, rubbing gingerly at his cheeks.

“Then don’t move. Just relax,” suggests Yuuri, as he rubs soothing circles along Viktor’s jaw. “Would you like some water? I can get you some water.”

Viktor nods, but doesn’t quite seem to understand at first the need to sit up in order for Yuuri to get off the couch to fetch him water. Finally, though, Yuuri manages to get him his water and Viktor snuggles against him, fiddling with the straw as Yuuri holds the cup in his hands. 

“What do you wanna do after this?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor’s nose wrinkles. “Maybe a bath,” he says. 

Yuuri nods. “That’s good; you’re still a bit dirty. Want some help with it?”

Viktor finishes his water with a long slurp and nods, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s neck. Chuckling, Yuuri scoops him up into his arms again, carrying him into the bathroom and setting him down on the edge of the tub before starting to undress him. 

Viktor is sweet and compliant throughout the bath, letting Yuuri soap him up and wash his hair, humming against Yuuri’s fingertips. Every little noise drawn from Viktor’s throat makes Yuuri’s heart race, makes that traitorous warmth return to pool between his legs.

Had it really just been hours before when he’d watched, through the two-way mirror looking into that club room, this same man service four other cocks as well as Yuuri’s own? It seems a little hard to believe, and yet there’s still trace evidence all over Viktor’s face and body, in the soreness of his jaw and wrists. Yuuri presses gentle kisses to those areas, runs a washcloth along Viktor’s face and between his thighs. He brushes against something hard and jerks his hand back, causing a small splash.

“I’m sorry —” he begins, but Viktor’s eyes are sparkling, and he reaches out for Yuuri’s wrist and guides his hand back under the water. 

“I don’t mind,” he says.

Yuuri purses his lips. “You sure?”

“You make me feel good,” says Viktor, nodding vehemently. “I want it.”

Yuuri takes him in hand, then, and begins to stroke, his movements slow and gentle, his lips pressed against Viktor’s temple. Viktor’s silvery hair is slicked back with bathwater and the remnants of lather; he smells of linen and sea breeze and whatever other thing is labelled on his shampoo bottles, and Yuuri breathes it in with each stroke of his hand.

“Yuuri,” murmurs Viktor, nudging his head back to capture Yuuri’s lips with his own. “I love you.” 

Yuuri smiles into the kiss. “Is that the subspace talking?” he asks.

“I’ll still love you when I’m back to normal,” Viktor replies, and Yuuri’s sure he would’ve said something else if he hadn’t flicked his wrist just then and elicited a loud moan into the space between them. “I — I love you all the time, you know.”

“I do,” agrees Yuuri, the words simultaneously way too much and not enough. “I still think I’m dreaming.”

“Then don’t wake up,” gasps Viktor, his breath catching short in his throat as he spills, partly into Yuuri’s hands, mostly into the bathwater.

“Oh Viktor.” Had this been a scene, Yuuri would already be thinking of ways to punish him for that. But they’re not in a scene. This is just them existing, caring for one another. So he smiles. “You’re so messy.”

“I know, what a waste of bathwater,” replies Viktor in a voice that clearly shows no remorse at all. “Maybe I should take your bath, too.”

Yuuri snorts. “And how would you go about doing that?” he asks.

Viktor splashes water at him. “We could refill the tub and start over,” he replies.

And Yuuri laughs at that, his heart full to bursting. “Well, now that you’ve gotten your dirty bathwater onto me, I suppose I have no choice but to take you up on that,” he replies, and reaches for the buttons on his shirt.

In the end, they don’t make it out of the bathtub — let alone the bathroom — for another hour or so. But when they do leave, they move right into the bedroom, and Viktor curls up right into Yuuri’s arms without any hesitation. 

“Stay close to me,” Viktor asks, entwining their fingers as he peers up at Yuuri from where he lies pressed against Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri vaguely wonders if Viktor picked up on the increase in his heartbeat. He casts a glance to the nightstand, where the rings symbolising their commitment to one another sparkle in the lamplight, and then takes their entwined hands to press kisses to Viktor’s fingertips.

“Always,” he promises, and he feels Viktor’s responding smile against his skin long after the man falls asleep.


	18. see the world you've brought to life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: what if someone sent shitty overly-aggressive dom messages to victor online after the gloryhole thing_

**[Video] HORNY RUSSIAN SLUT SERVICES FIVE DICKS IN GLORYHOLE**

**katsudangle**  
thats hot

 **gungerie**  
if ur typing u clearly arent fapping hard enough

 **vns_sugar_baby**  
this makes my pussy wet

 **boikingz**  
goddamn he looks good w dicks in his mouth maybe he needs 1 more ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **thiccalphacock**  
vn taking it up the ass makes my dick wilt

 **420noon**  
same i hate his newer content

 **daddy_ihavesinned**  
¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ more fap for me then

 **porn_boy** **  
** should’ve stuffed him with more cock

 **lickinthedicktor**  
DOUBLESTUFF

 **shiftyshar**  
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

* * *

 **oldguarddom:** Hello. If you ever tire of your current partner and ever want to be with a REAL DOM who knows how to really handle a sub, allow Me to present Myself for your consideration. I am a 35 yo white man with a big dick 10 inch flaccid and I’ll treat you like royalty and fuck you like a whore… I am a very demanding Master, My word is law and you will obey Me… but I can be very generous when the need arises. I will know all of your wildest fantasies from just a 5 min conversation. It’s always the same. Everyone wants to be fucked hard and I can give it to you.  
If you are amenable, just say so. I have a lot of money that I would be willing to spend to make sure you are properly trained. I will break you, but I will then build you back up into the perfect submissive… you will live each day serving Me, but I will reward you with the most mindblowing sex you’ve ever had. I have no tolerance for little brats, so you will quickly forget what you ever did as a Dom. But perhaps then you won’t want to go back, after you meet me…  
**v-nikiforov:** i’m fine with my current partner thanks  
**oldguarddom:** Why? He’s a wimp with a tiny penis.  
**v-nikiforov:** racist bye

* * *

 **ridemycock:** why don’t you do Dom videos anymore  
**v-nikiforov:** because my current partner is my Dom  
**ridemycock:** i liked it better when you were Dom. you knew what you were doing  
**v-nikiforov:** cool whatever  
**ridemycock:** you’re very rude you know  
**v-nikiforov:** what i decide to do with my partner is none of your business

_ridemycock is typing…_

* * *

Viktor had been in the middle of typing out another response to an infuriating message on Fetlife before Yuuri takes his mobile, types something in, and puts it away.

“Yuuri –” Viktor begins, but Yuuri silences him with a kiss, walking them back until Viktor’s calves hit the bed.

“Paying attention to those messages is only going to make you angrier,” Yuuri says when they pull apart. “Let me take your mind off things.”

Viktor opens his mouth, but Yuuri puts a finger to his lips, shushing him effectively. Surprised, Viktor drops down onto the bed, eyes wide and heart racing, as Yuuri tugs off both of their shirts and climbs onto Viktor’s lap, capturing his lips in another kiss.

“They were insulting you,” Viktor mumbles when they pull apart. Yuuri, whose hands had been in the process of undoing Viktor’s trousers, pauses to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I was defending your honour.”

“I don’t need defending, _Vitya_ ,” chides Yuuri, the name sending shivers down Viktor’s spine. "I’m less experienced than you, but that doesn’t mean I need you to fight internet trolls for me.”

Viktor pouts. “But what if —” he begins, but Yuuri interrupts him with a kiss.

“What if you let me distract you, hmm?” he wonders when they pull apart. “Just relax, love, let me handle this.”

Viktor is quick to comply, his breath fleeing out of him as he watches Yuuri deftly undo the fly of his trousers. He arches his hips to help Yuuri get rid of his trousers, swallowing at the way Yuuri’s eyes darken at the sight of his cock. Settling back against the bed, Viktor watches Yuuri clamber back onto his lap, fingers ghosting over Viktor’s skin but not quite close enough to touch.

“Yuuri —” Viktor breathes, but Yuuri puts a finger to his lips.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

Viktor nods.

Yuuri smiles. “Then don’t talk.”

Viktor would have had a response to Yuuri’s request, but the instant Yuuri’s fingers wrap around his cock all thoughts of speaking fly out of his head. He leans back against the bedspread as Yuuri straddles his thighs, his hands beginning to pump at Viktor’s length, coaxing him to hardness.

Lying here beneath Yuuri feels like where he’s meant to be, for some reason. Viktor tilts his head back, loses himself to sensation and delight. Yuuri’s hands know him so well; they seem to have memorised each spot on his cock that makes him scream. With each twirl of his wrist, each move of his hand, Yuuri draws out more gasps and sighs from Viktor’s throat.

Yuuri then shifts down, takes him into his mouth, and Viktor _burns_. White-hot pleasure races through him, sparking every nerve to life. It’s almost like the first time they did this, except now it’s _better_ , because Yuuri knows him better now and can take him apart like this. Can press each and every single one of those little buttons which makes Viktor scream his name – except this time, he has to bite the back of his hand to keep most of the noise in.

That beautiful mouth pauses, though, eliciting a whimper. But then Yuuri kisses him again, slow and sweet, and tells him to wait just a moment before retreating. Viktor raises himself up on his elbows to watch Yuuri cross over to the closet and return with a box, opening it to reveal a ball gag.

“Now you won’t need to worry about it at all,” Yuuri promises, and then frowns. “That is, if you —”

Viktor nods, furiously, and the gag goes in his mouth and is securely fastened. He bites down on the ball as Yuuri resumes sucking at him, the feeling of his Dom’s tongue sliding along his shaft as exquisite as ever.

“I’m so glad you like it,” says Yuuri quietly when his hands resume stroking. “I was a bit worried you wouldn’t, but I also wanted to surprise you with it. We’d been getting a couple noise complaints from the neighbours, you know.”

Viktor nods again, his heart racing harder as he watches Yuuri straighten up to unbuckle his own trousers, freeing his own half-hard cock. It’s dripping with pre-come that Viktor wants to taste, and the way Yuuri rolls his fingers through the liquid and slowly sucks them clean makes it obvious that he knows.

“I’m sure one of these nights we’ll put on a good show for them again, but in the meantime, we’ll have to make do. It’s not that I’m upset with you, Vitya,” and then Yuuri leans in, pressing his body flush against Viktor’s, ghosting his breath along Viktor’s ear as he adds, “I’m going to miss the way you encourage me. The way you scream for me.”

And then he reaches back and grasps Viktor’s cock, lines himself up, and sinks down.

Viktor gasps, though most of the noise is lost in the ball of the gag. Yuuri had already prepared himself, it seems, because he is slick and open and so accommodating, so warm. He takes every inch of Viktor easily, before sliding up until just the tip is inside him, and then back down to the base once more. After a couple repeats — in which each second where his cock is not fully seated inside Yuuri feels like a second wasted — Yuuri’s hips begin to fall into a faster, more fluid rhythm, and the pleasure becomes nearly blinding.

The gag chokes back most of his moans and gasps, but it doesn’t stop the indentation of his fingers in the sheets or the mindless bucking of his hips against Yuuri’s. Yuuri rides him hard, his pace now merciless, and Viktor can’t help but wish he could take a picture of his lover – his partner – his Dom like this. Sweaty, flushed, panting and breathless – Yuuri is an erotic work of art as he fucks himself open on Viktor’s cock.

“Come on,” gasps Yuuri after a moment, reaching forward to cup his cheeks, one hand lightly resting against Viktor’s throat. The thrill of being so vulnerable shoots through Viktor’s head and he clenches at the sheets a little harder. Yuuri moves his hands then, pressing their bodies flush. “Come for me, Vitya.”

Viktor bites down on the gag as he sits back up, meeting Yuuri halfway, digging his hands into the skin of Yuuri’s hips as he thrusts into him. Yuuri marks his neck, his collar, his shoulders, his own pleasure made quiet but obvious through the bruises and lovebites now blooming along Viktor’s skin, little purpling rosettes of pride that mark proof of their ownership of one another. Pain bleeds into pleasure, but it is a sweet ache, a soft agony that drives Viktor closer and closer to the edge.

And then he falls. He comes, his warmth spreading deep into Yuuri, his teeth clenched hard against the gag as he feels Yuuri’s nails dig into the skin above his hipbones. Yuuri follows after a couple more bucks, Viktor’s come slipping out of him along with his cock. Chest heaving, eyes dancing, Yuuri reaches out and unbuckles the gag, and Viktor gasps as soon as he relinquishes the ball.

He leans in, grasping the sides of Yuuri’s head and kissing him hard like his lungs are the only place where he can draw oxygen. Yuuri’s hands loop around to rest at his nape, holding him close. Viktor’s hands move down, then, skimming along Yuuri’s sides, skimming his fingers along the white strips of come dripping down Yuuri’s stomach, and pulling away from the kiss to lick his fingers clean.

“You prepared yourself,” Viktor remarks quietly as he runs a finger down Yuuri’s softening cock.

“I’d been meaning to ride you for some time now,” Yuuri admits, the tips of his ears bright pink. Viktor laughs at that.

“Well, then, I wouldn’t object to being ridden again,” Viktor replies, and captures his lips again.

* * *

 **v-nikiforov:** sorry, can’t respond anymore. about to get ridden by my Master like a pony and i certainly won’t be thinking of you xx


	19. what are you waiting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Prompt: do you think the fuckboy doms would message yuuri about how he's "not training his sub properly" and other such bs??_  
>  \+ For play party AU, might I submit for your consideration: cockwarming. :3c

**mayoisbetter**   
god i can’t believe viktor went from being such a good dom to this

 **inlustwithvn**   
yeah he’s such a bratty sub   
and not even a good bratty sub   
his dom is too soft on him

 **step_on_me**   
can’t wait for viktor to get bored of this guy and move onto someone better

 **spank_me_daddy**   
his dom’s not training him properly

 **sealsdoitbetter**   
I just keep wondering when he’ll get tired of being fucked and make his dom his bitch

 **ihateyounowfuckme**   
hahah keep fapping u trolls

 **alphadom**   
if i were vn’s dom i’d never let him get away with all the stuff he says and does. his dom’s not controlling enough. not a real dom.

 **v-nikiforov**   
clearly all of you are jealous you don’t get to be fucked by my Master so thoroughly every day. keep fapping ;)

* * *

“But they keep on saying that,” Viktor complains. “They keep saying you’re ‘not a real dom’. It’s so stupid.”

Yuuri hums from beneath him, his expression drawn more towards the show on TV. “That’s unfortunate,” he remarks.

“Yeah,” says Viktor, looking forlornly at the mobile on the coffee table. He’s tempted to try and retrieve it, but it’s a bit difficult to do that considering that he’d been instructed not to move at all while he keeps Yuuri’s cock warm.

And god, if that isn’t complete agony. Yuuri is so thick and hard inside him, a constant, unmoving presence that’s slowly driving Viktor insane. There is clearly nothing more frustrating than this — than the feeling of Yuuri inside him, using him as nothing more than a sleeve while he watches TV. Viktor wants to lean into Yuuri, wants to feel the cant of Yuuri’s hips against his as he moves.

But Yuuri’s taking his sweet time getting to that, which probably is testament to his self-control. Viktor’s not sure if he’s more proud of that, or of himself for having to resist the urge to ride Yuuri and cut short his suffering.

“Vitya, you do know why I’m doing this, right?” Yuuri asks sweetly. Viktor casts another look towards the mobile, and feels his cheeks heating up.

“I got engaged in an argument on the Internet about you?” he asks.

Yuuri nods, reaching up to stroke gently along Viktor’s cheek. “I really do appreciate the gesture, Vitya, but I’ve also told you many times that I don’t want to get involved in all of that.”

Viktor bites his lip. “I’m sorry, I just get so mad when I hear people talking shit about you.”

“I know,” says Yuuri, smiling. “I’ve also gotten private messages about it as well.”

“Really?” Viktor’s eyes narrow. “And what do they say?”

“More or less the same thing,” replies Yuuri, and Viktor notices in the tightness of his Dom’s eyes that he’s clearly lying through his teeth about being unflappable about the entire situation.

Yuuri has a heart like glass, but he tries so hard to keep the cracks from showing, especially in scenes and moments like this.

The back of Yuuri’s hand skims along Viktor’s cheek again. Almost absently, Yuuri tucks a strand of his hair behind one ear, and it makes Viktor shiver a little. He watches Yuuri deliberate with the remote for a moment, and then switch off the TV so that he can cup Viktor’s face in both hands, and shift them until Viktor’s back is pressed against the couch cushions. It makes Yuuri’s cock shift a little inside him, and Viktor can’t help the moan that escapes him at that.

Yuuri chuckles a little. “Have you had enough?” he asks.

Viktor whines. “I swear I won’t engage with the trolls on the Internet anymore, gospadin moy, _please_.” And he would’ve bucked his hips, if he hadn’t been instructed not to move. Either way, Yuuri chuckles, and slides his cock out of him with a soft wet pop.

“You did a good job, Vitya, keeping me warm,” he says, stroking idly along his shaft. Viktor’s eyes are drawn to it, to the slow movement of Yuuri’s hands. His Dom moves to grab the lube off the table, and Viktor almost exhales in relief.

Yuuri’s grin is wide as he slicks his cock back up. “Ready for a reward?” he asks, and Viktor can only moan in reply.


End file.
